


losing control of the whole world (a guide to surviving thanksgiving at <strike>stark</strike> avengers tower)

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Gen, Holidays, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, Team as Family, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During her PA years, Pepper Potts had coordinated more events than she could possibly begin to remember, but she had <i>never</i> been so invested on a personal level as she was with this insane Thanksgiving Day get-together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	losing control of the whole world (a guide to surviving thanksgiving at <strike>stark</strike> avengers tower)

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing but fluff, but it's been a long, long week and my brain apparently needed the diversion. My apologies.

During her PA years, Pepper Potts had coordinated more events than she could possibly begin to remember. She'd presided over guest lists that included presidents and heads of state. Trashy and minor royalty happened more often than not, with the occasional serious member of a still-functioning--if basically irrelevant--monarchy around to add a little extra zing. She'd always cared enough to ensure that they turned out perfect--it was, of course, just part of what made her so good at what she did--but she had _never_ truly been so invested on a personal level as she was with this insane Thanksgiving Day get-together.

"This is all Rogers's fault," Tony said, as Pepper untangled herself from him and climbed over the bed to get her StarkPhone before it vibrated itself off the priceless piece of Art Nouveau masquerading as a bedside table and shattered on the floor. It could be replaced, of course, but her schedule did not have time for electronic mishaps.

"Don't pout," Pepper murmured absently as she scanned the flurry of emails that had arrived in response to her last request for must-have dishes for the caterer. For a group of ridiculously over-armed superheroes capable of wreaking utter havoc on anybody who annoyed them sufficiently, they certainly had their picky-eating-groove on. She'd be more irritated if it wasn't clear that none of them had the slightest idea of what went into a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, but were pathetically willing to fake their way through it. The closest she got to anything resembling a traditional choice came from Captain Rogers--a mock apple pie made from Ritz crackers that had Pepper's eyebrows arching even as she forwarded the request to the caterer. 

"Why shouldn't I pout?" Tony muttered. "The guy makes those, those doe eyes, and the next thing I know, you're getting out my _bed_ to take care of it. If I made that face, you'd have gotten the Breathalyzer out and called Happy to come drive me home."

Tony possibly had a point: Pepper _was_ sitting naked on the side of the bed making adjustments to a turkey dinner menu, for God's sake, but the first rule of dealing with Tony Stark was to never let him think he was right.

"No, indeed, Mr. Stark," Pepper said, putting her phone down and reaching for the camisole and tap pants he'd thrown off the bed the night before. "If you'd asked me to coordinate a Thanksgiving dinner with the entire Avenger initiative, complete with turkey and all the extras, I would have had JARVIS conduct a complete search of the house to find the hallucinogens you'd ingested."

"Mmm," Tony said, stretching and lacing his hands behind his head. The arc reactor glowed in the early morning light. "Would there have been a strip search involved?"

"I'm sure JARVIS would have been thrilled," Pepper said, with mock severity. Her blouse was across the room on the floor by the door; it was hopelessly crumpled, but she was only going to her floor (she'd moved into the Tower only after Tony had shown her the floor he'd set aside for her, so that she could--in his words--have some place to go to escape) to shower and change. It wouldn't kill her to wear it for two minutes, and if she took the private elevator, she wouldn't even run the risk of encountering any of the Tower's other residents. Besides, Tony got entirely too smug when she was reduced to borrowing his clothes and doing it more often would just encourage him to further heights. "All that aside, I don't ever see you saying no to Captain Rogers, so I'm not sure why I'm the one who has to be the bad guy."

"Because, Ms. Potts," Tony drawled. "You're the one with the backbone of steel."

"Really." Pepper pulled on her skirt--also hopelessly wrinkled, and she swore Tony made an extra effort to not only tear her clothes off her, but to wad them up into balls before he dropped/threw them.

"Absolutely," Tony said. "See, right now, you're going to say, 'Will that be all, Mr. Stark?' and then look at me with that eyebrow thing that you do until I tell you that yes, that will be all, Ms. Potts, even though what I really want to say is no, dammit, Pepper, that's not all, that I've barely kissed you this morning, much less eaten you out until you're screaming--"

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" Pepper interrupted, stepping into yesterday's Louboutins and smoothing back her hair. Listening to her voice, she thought it was credibly cool, covering the sudden jolt Tony's words sent slamming through her. For an added bonus, she arched an eyebrow at him. "I do have a company to run-- _your_ company--"

"That will be all, Ms. Potts." Tony bit each word out, determinedly not looking at her, so he missed the first few buttons getting undone.

"Are you sure?" Pepper almost laughed at the way Tony's eyes came flying back to her, but she had reputation to uphold, so she kept it to a mere quirk of her lips. She managed both cuffs and the top button on her blouse before Tony even managed to get his mouth shut.

"What about this company you're so devoted to, Ms. Potts..."

Tony recovered quickly--hardly a surprise--but Pepper still had her blouse back off and was working on the zipper of her skirt. It slid off her hips with a whisper of silk on silk. She stepped neatly out of the circle of fabric and gave his question due consideration.

"I have an excellent working relationship with the principal shareholder," Pepper said. Her camisole joined her blouse and skirt on the floor. Tony licked his lips and then smiled when Pepper couldn't suppress a shiver. "I'm sure we could work something out," she added, almost primly.

"God, leave the heels," Tony groaned as she shimmied out of her tap pants, and Pepper spared a thought for her packed schedule and the havoc about to be wreaked upon it. It was _completely_ worth it, she thought, gasping at the first touch of Tony's tongue on her thigh. 

Completely.

* - * - *

"Oh, my god, Tony, you told him we could do _what_?" Only Tony could pull that particular level of shrill out of Pepper these days. It was his very special gift, but normally it was happening behind closed doors, and not where Natasha could come flying in to make sure Pepper wasn't being murdered while she was in the next room, waiting for their lunch date. 

"Tony," Pepper mouthed, and Natasha rolled her eyes and went back out of Pepper's office. 

"C'mon, Pepp--how hard can it be?" Tony had that smirk; Pepper could _hear_ it even over the shitty cell connection.

"Let me make sure I understand," Pepper said, enunciating slowly and clearly, consciously relaxing her jaw from where it was threatening to lock up from how she was grinding her teeth. It was entirely too early in the day for a stress headache. " _You_ told the caterer, the one that _I_ found on no notice, that we wouldn't be needing their services, because _we're going to make the entire Thanksgiving dinner ourselves?_ "

There was that tone again. Pepper gave up trying to sound reasonable and in control. Some days weren't worth the effort it took; she was trying to convince herself that it was a mature and healthy attitude and not a complete capitulation to weakness, but she wasn't quite there yet.

"Why did you do that, Tony? Why?"

"I--"

"Why would you do that to me?"

"It was the damn doe eyes," Tony said, in a rush. "And he got all quiet. I swear, I just mentioned that we were going to have the best turkey dinner, because you'd found the best people, and boom, there went the eyes. You know how he gets, with the 'oh, of course, you're too busy and yeah, it's totally reasonable to have someone take care of it; it doesn't have to be like I imagined it'd be when I was a kid.' It's like kicking a fucking puppy."

Pepper bit back the 'you used to be good at that' that wanted to come flying out of her mouth; it was, after all, a good thing that Tony actually thought of someone other than himself occasionally, but dear _god_ , why did it have to involve a _kitchen_?

Tony took her silence as agreement--or just as an opportunity to keep talking; it was hard to tell sometimes--and added, "Oh, and can we look into what we need to do to catch the parade that morning?"

"We?" Pepper's mother had always threatened to wash her mouth out with soap when she got that snotty edge to her tone, but her mother wasn't here and even if she was, she'd have already passed out from Tony and his little attitudes. " _We?_ "

"Okay, sorry," Tony said, taking a deep breath. "Pepper, could you please figure out what's the best place to be for the parade?"

"The eyes again?" Pepper sighed.

"He was, uh, pretty damn excited to hear the parade still happened, so--"

"So you said you'd take care of it?" Pepper asked, gently. Tony got quiet, which was nice, as it had only taken several years for him to clue in to how the gentle tone was the tip-off that she was clinging to the last shred of her sanity. "And called me?"

"I--"

"Just say yes, Tony," Pepper said.

"Yes, Tony," Tony said. "No, wait, don't hang up--don't we--and by that, I mean the company that you are fucking amazing at running, way better than I ever dreamed of being--don't we have someplace that we stake out every year?"

"We do," Pepper said evenly. "But those places are already given out to employees and their families, and not even for you, or Captain Rogers's doe eyes, will I bump those people out."

"Yeah, no, sorry, wasn't thinking there," Tony said quickly, and Pepper congratulated herself once again on not snapping back the _you think?_ that was dying to come out. It would be counter-productive at best, even if it would have given her great satisfaction to actually say it. "Plus, probably not the smartest idea to put the whole team right there front and center near the networks."

"No," Pepper said, back to the gentle tone. "Perhaps not."

"Okay, you know what? We've got this. Me and Captain Red-White-and-Blue. I mean, how hard can it be to figure this out. It'll give him good practice in modern research tools--"

"You can also introduce him to the joys of modern supermarkets," Pepper said, tapping at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'm sure he won't want to just have things delivered."

"No," Tony said glumly. "Probably not.

"I'm emailing you the menu I'd worked out with the caterers." Pepper couldn't remember the last email she'd sent with such satisfaction, not even when she'd been accepting the resignations of the board members who'd been most opposed to her promotion to CEO.

"Yeah, great," Tony answered, with as forced as enthusiasm as Pepper had ever heard, and she was counting nearly a decade of reactions to board meetings in that assessment. She told herself it would be a gross violation of privacy to sneak out and watch Tony Stark trying to navigate a grocery store. Then she told herself--and Natasha--again.

And again.

"It wouldn't hurt to check my calendar, though," Pepper said, as the very attentive waiter at Lutece brought her the kir she'd decided was a well-deserved reward for the many things she hadn't said out loud. "Would it?"

"Not at all," Natasha agreed, clinking her glass against Pepper's and smiling with a deadly charm that Pepper deeply admired.

* - * - *

"No," Steve insisted. "I'm fine." He smiled what was a very convincing smile to someone who didn't actually know him. Pepper only arched a fairly disbelieving eyebrow at him, taking a moment to reflect on how far they'd come from the first awkward weeks after he'd accepted Tony's invitation to use the Tower as his base of operations in New York. Back then he could barely meet her eyes, much less wordlessly lie to her face, and at least they hadn't gone too far down that particular path because he sighed after a few seconds. "It's... Bruce took me to the market, in Union Square, and..." He hesitated, and his voice was quiet when he started speaking again . "Food--it was always difficult. The Depression, and then the war... Even after I joined up, when we were in England, there was rationing and--I don't know, you just ate what was there and mostly didn't think about it."

Pepper nodded; she didn't think he needed more than someone to listen. At least she hoped she was reading him right.

"And here--" Steve gestured widely, toward the kitchen in the common area, and the long, sleek table that had gradually become more than just a piece of furniture as people had come and gone and gathered around it for lazy dinners and random lunches and the kind of methodical re-fueling that happened by necessity after every new crisis had been met. "Well, it just shows up here, and I guess I haven't really been thinking about it." 

He fell silent after that, long enough that Pepper prompted gently, "But Bruce took you to the farmer's market...?"

"To get things for Thanksgiving," Steve sighed. Pepper nodded again. She thought she'd recognized Bruce's sharp, angular handwriting on the notes and lists she'd been finding scattered around the communal floor. "And we got there and... I've been to stores, but smaller ones, you know, little places..." Even in the dimly-lit room, it was easy to see his eyes and how open and vulnerable they were, a palpable reminder of the youth under the mantle he wore like a second skin. "And then today, I couldn't help think about my mother, how often she came home with nothing but a couple of carrots and a potato, maybe a knuckle bone for soup."

He was quiet again, but he didn't seem to want to be alone, so Pepper curled her legs up under her and stayed there on the couch next to him, watching the lights of the city spread out below them. 

* - * - *

If Bruce was taking care of the food--which he seemed to be, however bemusing that thought was--Natasha had appointed herself to be in charge of the parade details. Again, Pepper couldn't begin to fathom why, at least not until she came upon Natasha in the common room, a phone tucked between her ear and shoulder and JARVIS's mapping algorithm projected onto the wall. Agent Barton was with her, which wasn't unusual--he was her shadow most days, as far as Pepper could tell--and the two of them were engaged in a rapid fire not-quite argument, which _was_. Pepper didn't think she'd heard Barton say more than ten words in the six months that he'd lived in the Tower, but here there were moments that Natasha wasn't getting a word in edgewise. JARVIS was clearly working with him; each time Barton stabbed his finger on the projection, JARVIS left a small bright spot to mark the place.

"I'm just saying," Barton said, when Natasha gave up trying to talk and threw a pen at him. If it'd been a knife, it would have pinned his hand to the wall; he only caught it on the ricochet and threw it back at Natasha. "You can't throw a group this size in just anywhere, not if you want the kids to be able to see, and what's the point if you can't--"

" _Fine_." Natasha threw up her hands, but Pepper didn't think she was anywhere near as aggravated as she was projecting. "Work it out and let me know." 

Barton made a pleased sound, one that Pepper easily translated as _Finally, woman._ From the glare Natasha was leveling at him as she crossed the room to talk to Pepper, she had come to the same translation. 

"Kids?" Pepper asked in a low voice, and Natasha shook her head. 

"I--can't even tell you how it started, but apparently there's a Boys and Girls Club in Clint's neighborhood, and one where Steve grew up as well, and there were conversations and the two of them swearing we could take anything they could throw at us, and somehow we're sponsoring buses and chaperones for groups from both clubs to go and watch the parade."

They stood in the small hallway and watched as Barton asked JARVIS to bring up a 3D, one-tenth-scale projection of a particular block along Sixth Avenue so that he could move through it and check angles and sight-lines. 

"Well, I'm sure Captain Rogers is very excited about it all," Pepper finally said, not mentioning anything about Agent Barton and how Natasha was watching him with something far more complex than partnership in her eyes.

* - * - *

Thanksgiving morning dawned clear and cold, with temperatures a little above freezing, for which Pepper reminded herself to be grateful even as she started pulling on the layers of clothing that would be necessary to get her through her day. She and Tony were expected to meet briefly with the engineering group who had been the recipient of the company's tickets for the parade before splitting up: Tony to make a few under-the-radar stops on behalf of the Maria Stark Foundation and Pepper (and a few senior SI executives) on a round of charitable efforts sponsored by assorted departments within the company. As well, though it was a holiday in the US, the rest of the world worked on, so it was only marginally a day off for her. 

She checked in with the European offices and answered the few emails that had come in from the Asian and Indian management teams before making her way out to assess the coffee situation. There generally was some--that was a given considering the other inhabitants of the Tower--but the quality and overall strength varied widely, from Tony's up-all-night-what-do-you-mean-I-can't-just-double-the-amount-of-beans sludge to the anything-is-fine-don't-bother-with-the-fancy-stuff sturdy brew favored by Captain Rogers or Agent Barton to Bruce's unfortunately decaffeinated blend. Someone was looking out for Pepper, though: as soon as she stepped off the elevator, she recognized the smell as being Natasha's meticulously-ground and perfectly-brewed Kona. Between that and the fact that there was no rain in the forecast, the day was looking fairly auspicious, or at least not a total disaster. 

She texted a quick _thank you_ to Natasha, and in return got a short video of two-fifths of the Avengers, in the persons of Captain America and Hawkeye, on an anonymous street curb, watch caps pulled low to their eyebrows, huddling up under space blankets with a somewhat alarming--at least in Pepper's opinion--number of kids. _I'm not sure who's more excited_ , Natasha texted. _It's almost entertaining enough to make up for the time/temperature. Almost._

Bruce came wandering in then, setting the kettle on to boil and gamely attempting to find his morning yogurt. Both refrigerators were packed with the spoils of his trips to the greenmarket with Steve, plus the deliveries Jarvis had coordinated. Each shelf housed its own category of food and that wasn't counting the refrigerators in all the bars, which held the overflow. Pepper had already made note of the three turkeys, but she'd somehow missed the ham. Even for the Avengers, it seemed a bit excessive.

Bruce shrugged at her arched eyebrow. "Thor apparently arrived from Europe yesterday. Steve invited him."

"Of course he did," Pepper said. She was possibly a bit too proud that she did not sigh, but given the day she was facing she was taking any opportunity to congratulate herself on good behavior. 

"And his… group," Bruce said, his attention clearly on the refrigerators. "Dr. Foster and her team." 

"Well, however many that might be, I doubt they eat enough in comparison to matter much," Pepper answered. Bruce hummed thoughtfully; Pepper took it as an agreement and turned to reach for her coat and scarf. "Jarvis, how does the morning look?"

"Mr. Hogan is in video-conference with Mr. Stark regarding today's transportation needs," JARVIS answered. Pepper translated that as Happy and Tony flipping coins and cheating over whether they went in the Rolls or something sportier, but, as always, she did admire JARVIS's excellent grasp of the subtleties of the language. "Mr. Odinsson, Doctors Foster and Selvig, and their research team are joining with Agent Romanov's group and will be returning with them. Your supposition as to food consumption would appear to be correct, so I have no concerns."

"Excellent," Pepper said. A call from the Brussels office came through and she walked into the living area to take it, sliding her arms into her coat at the same time. It was a brief call, more a formality than anything else, but at least was something else checked off her never-ending lists. She disconnected the call, reached to make sure she had her gloves and turned to say her good-byes to Bruce, all at the same time, and nearly sent the travel mug he was holding flying. He juggled it back to a more stable grip with commendable dexterity and held it out to her again, with not a single drop spilled.

"Assam, with a touch of Kenyan," Bruce said, smiling as Pepper automatically took the mug from him. "Milk, and I know you don't usually do sugar, but there's just a little in there, to keep you going for the morning." Pepper couldn't help staring at him, and he ducked his head. "You--probably have someone to take care of that for you, sorry--"

"How lovely of you," Pepper said, genuinely touched. If pressed, she would have said that no one in the Tower (with the possible exception of Natasha, who never didn't notice anything and JARVIS, who, of course, ran inventory) had any idea that she switched to tea after her morning blast of coffee, much less knew the blend she made for herself. "I don't, actually. Have anyone to do this, I mean. I generally just take whatever is on hand--it's not worth putting someone to the trouble." She touched her hand to his, light and quick--he generally shied away from being touched, but she'd watched him enough to know it was more from automatically throwing up shields than from any sort of objection. "Thank you--and thank you for taking on all of this."

"Let's wait until we see if I produce anything edible," Bruce said, shrugging in that self-deprecating way that made Pepper want to--well, what she wanted to do and to whom was probably not the thing to be thinking about, not with the day she had in front of her. "But you're welcome, at least for the tea."

Pepper smiled her very best smile, the one that she reserved for when her people needed her utmost support, and firmly ignored the little shock of surprise that Bruce was apparently now one of her people, calling to JARVIS instead. "Have we solved the transportation dilemma?"

"As there are now multiple engine inspections in progress, I am forced to conclude otherwise."

"And that would be my cue," Pepper said dryly to Bruce. "It never fails to amaze me how many ways Tony can dream up to avoid the business side of things."

"You say that as if you're not wildly entertained by them." Bruce's smile was sly and knowing and Pepper found herself liking it quite a bit.

"Shhh," she answered, throwing an answering smile over her shoulder as the elevator doors opened for her. "Our secret."

Bruce didn't laugh, but he didn't turn away and Pepper could see his smile from across the room.

* - * - *

The Tony-Happy braintrust had, amazingly enough, settled their differences by the time Pepper reached the garage level. (She suspected JARVIS had 'encouraged' their agreement, but she wasn't about to look a gift AI in the mouth, to mix her metaphors.) 

"Schedule's locked and loaded, boss," Happy told her, tapping Tony's upgraded and enhanced super-GPS in the dash. "Just gotta remember to keep that one--" he eyed Tony darkly--clearly, the car decision had not gone entirely Happy's way--"in line or we'll never make it." 

"Or you could just leave me," Tony suggested. "Nobody would wonder if you told them I flaked."

"No," Pepper said, patting Tony's arm. "But nice try."

Happy smirked at Tony in the rear-view mirror, Tony jabbed his finger down on the privacy screen as they pulled out of the garage, and Pepper's day truly got underway.

* - * - *

The sun was down and the short winter twilight almost gone as Happy drove Pepper back into the garage at the tower. Natasha had been sending a stream of texts, photos, and videos documenting the parade expedition, and Tony had, as was his habit, called randomly during the day to let her know he'd kept to his schedule without causing any extraneous PR situations and was returning to the Tower. There had been conversations about his participation in hosting activities (especially since the entire dinner idea had been, as Pepper had pointed out, _not_ her idea), but (as always with Tony) there was no guarantee how that might have turned out. 

"Dare I ask?" Pepper said to JARVIS, as soon as the elevator doors closed. 

"I would venture to say that the pre-dinner festivities are off to a rousing start," JARVIS replied, which was only somewhat reassuring. Pepper could ask for further clarification, but she wasn't sure she was up to processing if the news was less than good. Still, she reasoned, she'd yet to hear anything negative from Natasha. She held onto that thought while she showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, and then, with a deep breath or two, went to join in. The elevator delivered her efficiently--and silently--and she took a few seconds to drink in all the energy and activity before she moved into the room. 

Natasha, not unexpectedly, was the first to notice Pepper, waving from her perch on the island that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the room. Beyond her, Pepper could see Bruce in the kitchen, with Steve and Agent Barton flanking him. Thor stood near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing Dr. Foster to point out the sights to him. Rhodey was in the corner with Dr. Selvig and a flask that Pepper didn't think she needed to know about.

And Tony… Tony was smiling at Pepper from where he stood next to the bar, apparently instructing Dr. Foster's intern in the subtle intricacies of the perfect dry martini (a glass of gin drunk while saluting a picture of Antonio Carpano, the inventor of vermouth--Pepper had been Tony's PA for a lot of years and hadn't quite been able to escape the useless knowledge that came cascading out of Tony's head at all hours of the day and night.) Pepper took great pleasure in being able to smile back openly and to very delicately touch her fingers to her lips and blow him a kiss. It was a bit more demonstrative than Pepper usually preferred to be in public, but, well, it was Thanksgiving and Pepper found herself grateful for so many things, not the least of which was seeing how Tony was losing the loneliness that had always been the base of every interaction she'd seen him have.

Tony held out his hand, not taking his eyes off her as she crossed the room to join him even while absently nodding along to the bartending discussion. Lacing their fingers together, he drew her closer and pressed a kiss to her knuckles that was so unexpectedly tender, Pepper didn't trust her voice to reply. 

"Speechless, Potts?" Tony murmured, but there was barely any smarm in his tone, and he leaned into her when she squeezed his hand and brushed an answering kiss along his temple. 

"Saving my words for later," Pepper answered, arching an eyebrow and then turning to introduce herself to Dr. Foster's intern, who, it turned out, was not at all intimidated to be having Thanksgiving dinner with the Avengers.

"She's the one who tazed Thor," Tony offered, which did explain things rather satisfactorily. Pepper left the two of them to their own devices and went to make her duty rounds. Dr. Selvig was not looking especially well, but Rhodey seemed to have him well-occupied. Dr. Foster wore the familiar, distracted air of someone on the verge of a major breakthrough, but Thor assured Pepper that they were deeply honored to be invited to share in such an important feast day. He really did have lovely manners.

Matters in the kitchen area appeared to be reaching critical mass; Pepper made sure to stay out of the fray, gratefully accepting the flute of Rose Champagne Natasha held out to her. 

"Amazingly enough," Pepper said, "I think I'm actually taking this because it's an excellent vintage, not because I think I'm going to need a little outside influence to get through dinner."

"Well, the night is young," Natasha answered, tapping her own glass against Pepper's. "But you're right--who would have guessed we be this far in without bloodshed?"

"Speak for yourself," Agent Barton said as he smacked a carving knife and steel down on the counter next to Natasha before turning back to assemble his carving station. The turkey((s) -- Pepper was not hallucinating, there really were three turkeys waiting to be carved) and ham were resting under sheets of aluminum foil and the platters stood ready. Pepper found herself mildly nostalgic for family holidays that had long since stopped happening. Only mildly--her extended family had not been much for organizing and things had always devolved into boredom and petty family squabbling.

"One tiny little cut that didn't even require stitches hardly counts as bloodshed." Natasha began honing the knife, stopping every few strokes to eye the edge on the blade with critical and professional intensity. "It was barely even a scrape."

"My blood, my call," Barton answered with a sort of wry, long-suffering attitude that Pepper was beginning to realize was his actual personality. He'd been so quiet for so long, she'd forgotten how many carefully sanitized anecdotes Phil Coulson had shared over the years--and how the more outrageous ones always seemed to include Barton (and Romanoff, for that matter.) Based on some of those stories, Pepper decided not to ask for details.

Natasha shrugged and tossed the knife she'd been honing back to him, an end-over-end flip that he caught behind his back before spinning around and assessing the turkey sitting on the carving board. 

"Watch him, he's going to show off," Natasha murmured, leaning in close to Pepper so that no one else would hear. Barton's knife skills _were_ impressive, Pepper decided, even though he was clearly not 'performing', just working as quickly and cleanly as any chef Pepper had ever seen. Glancing up, he caught Pepper and Natasha watching him and grinned at them. 

"Ladies," he acknowledged, letting the knife handle rotate through his fingers like a baton. He looked to be a half-second away from rolling his eyes at them, especially when Natasha applauded politely, but Pepper saw the lightest of blushes high across his cheekbones before he turned back to the kitchen. 

"Five minute warning, Bruce," he called as he flipped the first turkey over to make sure he'd gotten all the meat carved and plated, "About to start on the second bird--how's the rest of it look?"

Bruce straightened up from where he'd just finished pulling a dizzying array of baking dishes out of the convection ovens and turned around slowly. Steve was ferrying everything to the counter that was acting as a buffet while Tony had moved on from his martini class to deal with the wine. "I think we might actually pull this off." He sounded faintly bemused at the idea; Pepper didn't blame him a bit.

"Awesome," Clint said, attacking the second turkey. "Let's do this before some asshole decides it's time to take over the world."

A collective groan went up from the room. Natasha hissed, "ИДИОТ!" She reached out and flicked Barton on the forehead. "You know better than to jinx us."

"Yeah, well, _you_ know I'm not cool with food not getting eaten, even when it's a goddamn MRE, much less something people have spent all week making happen," Barton answered, ducking the follow-up smack to the back of his head with equal parts ease and unconcern before turning serious. "And I gotta tell you, I'm pretty much over expecting there to be time for the good shit to happen later. No more 'somedays,' Nat."

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Natasha until her gaze softened and she nodded. He nodded back to her, and then turned to the rest of the room and announced, "Food. Us. Now," and watched with a satisfaction that he didn't try to hide as the rest of the team made their way toward the table.

* - * - *

Pepper would have bet a year's stock options against the Avengers making their way through any kind of holiday gathering without some kind of a disaster (whether internal or not), but even with the semi-miracle of an actual Thanksgiving dinner under their belts, finding herself following Captain America's lead in a very respectable foxtrot across the hastily-cleared common room floor still seemed entirely too surreal. It was rather sweet, though, Pepper thought, especially since Steve was clearly counting off the steps under his breath. 

"It's fine if you miss a turn or two," Pepper told him. "I had no idea dancing was even on the agenda tonight. I'm certainly not going to hold a misstep against you."

"It was a dare," Steve blurted out. "I mean--" He flushed a deep red. "I didn't mean to say that I wouldn't be honored to be dancing with you otherwise, even if you are Tony's girl-- Oh, cripes, not that I'm implying you belong to--" He closed his mouth with a snap and Pepper fought hard to keep from laughing. Steve took three very disciplined breaths, and said, "See, we were trying to figure out everything we needed for this--" He took his hand off Pepper's waist and waved at the remains of the dinner. "We got to talking and I was having one of those days where the world's just screwy now." He focused on the steps of the dance for a bit. "My friends, you know, back in Brooklyn, well, dancing was a big deal then. A fella who knew his way around a dance floor, he could write his own ticket most nights, even if he wasn't a swell like Howard." Steve hesitated and Pepper smiled encouragingly. "It probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that I wasn't one of them."

"I can hardly believe it," Pepper said dryly, which turned out to be the exact right thing to say. Steve relaxed and grinned down at her.

"Tony said dancing wasn't such a thing these days and you'd probably start checking him for a fever if he asked you out like that--well, he said a lot more than that, but you know Tony."

"I do," Pepper agreed, somewhat warily.

"So, you'll understand when I say I'm not exactly sure how me saying that was a shame, a swell gal like you not getting a turn on the dance floor somehow ended up with him insinuating that even if I did learn to dance, I'd be too chicken to ask anyone to step out with me." He managed to shrug without breaking his rhythm. "Things, uh, escalated from there."

"I'm sure they did," Pepper said gently. Steve winced, which at least meant he'd caught on to impending disaster far more quickly than Tony ever had. 

"If it helps, Tony was the one who taught me and there is actually video of him trying to teach me how to lead while he was following," Steve said hurriedly. "JARVIS seemed to find it pretty amusing."

It did help, quite a bit, but Pepper wasn't sure she was quite ready to let him off the hook. Letting Tony manipulate situations never led to happy endings and Steve should know better than to let it happen. 

Across the room, Rhodey and Natasha were skimming across the floor in flawless form, while Darcy was trying to move Jane and Thor through the steps in between laughing herself sick at how tangled they kept managing to get. Bruce, surprisingly enough, hadn't retreated to his own floor, but was settled in with a giant mug of tea, while Tony and Clint were sketching a tablet. It was all so surprisingly peaceful and familial that--just this once, Pepper promised herself--she couldn't really bring herself to care about Tony and Steve and how they egged each other on. They were grown men and could sort out their own issues. She _did_ object to being caught in the middle of it, but Steve was all but squirming under her regard now and she had plenty of time to deal with Tony. Plus, Steve was right: it was a shame that dancing was such a rare event these days. She could consider the fall-out of it all as part of their penance, especially since Tony had evidently caught wind of her annoyance and was cutting in on Steve with an exaggerated politeness and smoothly dancing Pepper down toward the windows and the lights of Manhattan.

"If I told you it was for his own good, would you believe me?" 

Pepper arched an eyebrow.

"He was in one of those moods," Tony said. "I got him out of it." He spun Pepper out and back in neatly. "Plus, hey, dancing."

"Tony," Pepper sighed.

"I didn't dare him to ask you, specifically," Tony said, going right for Pepper's strongest objection without even having to hear it. Pepper hadn't yet decided whether she liked being so well-known or if she loathed his presumption. "Can't fault his taste for his first real dance though."

"Flattery will get you--"

"A chance to make it up to you more personally," Tony interrupted, right as the song ended. Steve had finished off the dance with Darcy, who was flushed and laughing at the final spin Steve had sent her into. Jane and Thor, who had given up and had just been swaying together, stopped and applauded with Dr. Selvig until Steve and Darcy took a bow. Steve looked as happy as Pepper had ever seen. Rhodey and Natasha had ended as perfectly in form as they'd started, but were clearly done with formality, Rhodey drinking straight from that mysterious flask from before dinner, while Natasha had kicked her shoes halfway across the room and draped herself across Agent Barton's back. (Pepper wasn't seeing even a hint of objection from him, which was apparently pleasing Natasha greatly.) "C'mon, Pepp, what do you say?"

"Okay," Pepper told Tony.

"Just like that?" Tony said. "You sure you're feeling up to snuff, Ms. Potts?"

"I'm fine," Pepper told him. "It's been a lovely evening--even the preliminaries where you and Captain Rogers couldn't help needling each other ended without tears. I'll be happy to discuss the part where you turned the people with the second X chromosome into prize packages and evaluate what you might offer in amends." She smiled, a real, true smile with just a tiny edge to it. "I expect it to take quite a while."

"Have I mentioned that your brain is a thing of beauty? And that I might actually worship it?" Tony's smile mirrored her own. It was, Pepper thought, enormously attractive, enough to counteract all the aggravating parts and then some. "Can we go get started now?"

Pepper looked over his head to where Darcy was now teaching Steve to Lindy Hop while the rest of the team offered suggestions and 'encouragement.' Natasha caught her eye and nodded toward the elevator, clear permission to make a run for it, and Bruce added his smile as back-up. Tony intercepted both--of course--but, surprisingly enough, waited with actual patience until Pepper nodded before easing her into the shadows and sneaking them both away.

"I understand I have a video treat to start my evening off with," Pepper murmured. "Perhaps JARVIS could provide popcorn while I see how well you follow." Tony might have whimpered, but his steps never faltered.

There was still the possibility for disaster, as always, but given that they'd not only survived an alien invasion but also a holiday gathering, Pepper thought they could probably deal with anything.

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of the title is from _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_ , which I may have watched a few too many times over the weekend. :D


End file.
